The Archpriest begins by quoting Dionysius Cato[4] to the effect that, though man may have his trials, he should cultivate a spirit of gaiety. And, as no man in his wits can laugh without cause, Juan Ruiz undertakes to provide entertainment, but hopes that he may not be misunderstood as was the Greek when he argued with the Roman. This allusion gives the writer his opportunity, and he relates a story which recalls the episode of Panurge’s argument with Thaumaste, ‘ung grand clerc d’Angleterre.’ Briefly, the tale is this. When the Romans besought the Greeks to grant them laws, they were required to prove themselves worthy of the privilege, and, as the difference of language made verbal discussion impossible, it was agreed that the debate should be carried on by signs (Thaumaste, you may remember, preferred signs because ‘les matières sont tant ardues, que les parolles humaines ne seroyent suffisantes à les expliquer à mon plaisir’). The Greek champion was a master of all learning, while the Romans were represented by an illiterate ragamuffin dressed in a doctor’s gown. The sage held up one finger, the lout held up his thumb and two fingers; the sage stretched out his open hand, the lout shook his fist violently. This closed the argument, for the wise Greek hastily admitted that the Roman claim was justified. On being asked to interpret the gestures which had perplexed the multitude, the Greek replied: ‘I said that there was one God, the Roman answered that there were three Persons in one God, and made the corresponding sign; I said that everything was governed by God’s will, the Roman answered that the whole world was in God’s power, and he spoke truly; seeing that they understood and believed in the Trinity, I agreed that they were worthy to receive laws.’ The Roman’s interpretation differed materially: ‘He held up one finger, meaning that he would poke my eye out; as this infuriated me, I answered by threatening to gouge both his eyes out with my two fingers, and smash his teeth with my thumb; he held out his open palm, meaning that he would deal me such a cuff as would make my ears tingle; I answered back that I would give him such a punch as he would never forget as long as he lived.’ The humour is distinctly primitive, but Juan Ruiz bubbles over with contagious merriment as he rhymes the tale, and goes on to warn the reader against judging anything—more especially the _Libro de buen amor_—by appearances:— la bulrra que oyeres non la tengas en vil, la manera del libro entiendela sotil; que saber bien e mal, desjr encobierto e donegujl, tu non fallaras vno de trobadores mjll. Then, in his digressive way, the Archpriest avers that man, like the beasts that perish, needs food and a companion of the opposite sex, adding mischievously that this opinion, which would be highly censurable if he uttered it, becomes respectable when held by Aristotle.